Work Text:
He was frowning at the labels with the intensity of a man suffering troubles in paradise. Iris knew the type very well. He was young, dressed like an adorable nerd version of Abercrombie and Fitch (complete with the man sized sneakers), his hair was gelled in a gravity defying style like someone from a British boy band, and he was horribly confounded by labels on flowers. She let him ponder and squint for a few minutes by himself until he noticed that there was a difference between pink roses, hot pink roses, and salmon pink roses. His motions of confusion became very animated, and Iris finally stepped in. Hands clasped in front of her, a bright, charming smile on her face, she asked sweetly, “Can I help you find something, sir?”
The look of startled relief on his face as he turned to look at her was quickly followed by a tinge of red in his cheeks and on the tops of his ears, and he rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. “Um…yeah I’m looking…for something…nice?”
Iris laughed, though not unkindly, just enough to put him at his ease. “I’d say everything in here is nice, but that might just be because I’m on the clock.” That earned her a slight laugh, so she kept going. “Did you have anything specific in mind? A certain color, perhaps? One the uh…recipient might like?”
He blinked. “How’d you know it was for someone?”
"Most of ‘em are." Iris said with a noncommittal shrug. "When you’ve been in this business for a while, you kind of figure out why people are buying certain bouquets. There’s a language to flowers, you know."
"Oh yeah, yeah!" He exclaimed, a light of recognition appearing in his very expressive eyes, as his demeanor visibly relaxed. "The meanings that have been assigned to different flowers…like, from the Victorian times?"
"Wow! You really know your history. Yeah, pretty much every flower has a specific meaning, and I really wish I knew them all, but I only know a few. Red roses, of course, mean ‘passionate love’, but you know that, everyone knows that. There’s this one flower called Monkshood that literally means ‘Beware, a deadly foe is near’.”
He laughed, a brief, genuine sound. “What? Is it just a super ugly flower?”
"It’s actually not? I googled it after I heard that. It’s like…small and mysterious looking. It’s a dark purple." She gestured vaguely with her hands an approximate size of the plant, then waved the subject off. "But I assume you’re not trying to tell this person that there’s a dangerous enemy around, so…what are you thinking of looking for? Give me a color. Any color. Modern science worked very hard to make green flowers and if you want those, I can get you those."
This time, he giggled. An honest to God giggle that made Iris follow suit because he was just so cute. He was absolutely delighted by her humor, a realization that made the back of her jaw tighten with swallowed flirtations. Professionalism, West, get yourself together. He’s already got someone important.
He did not get green flowers, though he assured her with a wide grin that he would definitely keep them in mind. Instead, they assembled a very lovely bouquet of pink tea roses and carnations, which she wrapped in the finest bow and paper. He gave her the most dazzling smile in gratitude, assured her he’d be back, then blushed to the roots of his hair and hurried out, nearly backing into a display of teddy bears in his haste. The instant he disappeared out the door, Iris leaned over the counter and let her forehead touch the cold wood surface. Oh god he was cute. Why are the cute ones always taken. Oh god oh god oh god. An image of his goofy, cheek splitting grin crossed her mind again, and she giggled.
He was back a week later, and she’d nearly bounced over to greet him. “Hey you!” She exclaimed, slapping him on the arm to get his attention. She panicked for a moment. You’ve met him ONCE AND YOU’RE ALREADY GETTING HANDSY TONE IT DOWN GIRLFRIEND.
If he’d been offended, however, he hadn’t shown it, instead breaking into that wide smile (the one that had made her bury her face in her pillow and giggle for what seemed like ages all week) and exclaiming enthusiastically, “Hey! Oh man, I am so glad you’re working today! Guess what guess what?” Now here he was, bouncing on the tips of his toes, excitement radiating from the tips of his sneakers to the ends of his gravity defying hair.
"What what what?" Iris responded, matching his excitement.
"So I went home and did research on that flower we were talking about, okay, the Monkshood? Remember?"
"Oh yeah! The one that was like…a warning flower?"
"Exactly!" He began fumbling in his coat pocket, his smile never wavering, and his words never stopping as he pulled out a piece of paper torn from a book. "I really wanted to know why it was a warning flower, right? Look at this." He handed her the piece of paper, which she eagerly read while he kept talking. "Turns out your cute little flower is actually really poisonous. It makes aconite. They used to use it to kill wolves, which is why, if you’re into werewolves, you’d probably know it as wolf’s bane.”
Iris was fascinated. “I’m…wow. I’m not super into werewolves, but I know about aconite. This is so incredibly cool. You went home and did all this research?”
He spread his hands, contorting his face in a dorky grimace. “I got curious.”
Iris attempted to focus on the rest of the page on Monkshood, but her inner voices were babbling at a speed to rival the so-called Flash. Okay, this is not normal behavior. Nobody just remembers one little dumb thing you discuss and goes and researches it and seeks you out again just to talk about it, right? He totally likes me. But he had a…a person last time, right? A…someone? A guy or girl or non gender binary? Right? Yeah, better not ask him out, West, better wait and see if he drops any hints.
Deciding to play it safe, she said, “This is honestly incredible, and I am flattered that you remembered this little thing we talked about and did research on it. But this can’t be the only reason why you came by, right? Totally need more flowers for the…the someone?”
She dropped a significant hint, in hopes that he might answer some of her questions, or (better yet), say there was no more ‘someone’. She was disappointed, however, when he nodded quickly.
"Oh yeah! More flowers. I came prepared this time. So, do you have blue violets and pink day lilies?"
It was an oddly specific mixture, especially for someone who had only known he needed something pink the last time, but they looked around until he had picked out his favorites, and they went back to the counter for Iris (who was feeling a little sullen at this point, in spite of herself) to cut and wrap them. He watched her with an innocent intensity, radiating a boyish fascination as she expertly measured each stem, ribbon, piece of paper and plastic, and snipped them with ease. Catching his eyes on her, she smiled, and he ducked his head, the blush returning.
"So…uh. Do you…do you have a name?" He asked, as she folded the paper and plastic about the bouquet.
She laughed, though it came out like a flirty giggle. Shut up, West, get a hold of yourself. "I do. Do you have one too?"
"Oh, sure. It’s Barry." He paused, then thought better of it and added hurriedly, "Allen. Barry Allen."
"Barry Allen, it’s nice to meet you." She replied, tying the ribbon in a smart bow about the bouquet. "I’m Iris West." She thrust the bouquet at him with a flourish. "And that’ll be $36.99."
He came in again ten days later. His hands were jammed in the pockets of his black pea coat, and he looked very somber. Even the tips of his hair was drooping a little. He still flashed her a beautiful grin when she greeted him, but it didn’t quite take over the thoughtful look she glimpsed on his face as she made her way over to him.
"Hey Iris." He said, a sparkle appearing in his eyes as he spoke her name. "Good to see you again."
"Hey Barry.” She replied charmingly, emphasizing his name. “Bring me any research?”
"Couldn’t bring it, my uh…my printer broke." He explained, but as she pretended to pout, rushed to explain, "But I…I did find one thing and if you want, you can google it yourself. Go look up the meaning of ‘yellow tulips’. I think you’ll like it."
"Darn you! Now I’m going to be wondering about that until I’m off. How’m I supposed to focus when all I can think of is yellow tulips?" She swatted his arm, and he leaned away, feigning pain at her violence.
"Ow. You’re a horrible person."
"Excuse you, you’re the horrible person."
"I didn’t hit you when you gave me something!"
"I hit the people I lllllll…like.” Oh god Iris you nearly said you loved him you have literally met the guy twice this is getting out of ha… Her inner monologue trailed away. Barry was smiling at her like she was a sunset in July, as though he were both awed and delighted by her very existence.
Iris’ insides squirmed, and her brain screamed. If she didn’t change the subject, she would either vomit words or just…vomit. Quickly, she asked, “So! What this week, oh patron of the florist shop? What does your mysterious someone want this time? Perhaps a viscaria? They mean…”
“‘Dance with me’.” He finished, and the look on his face was so intensely loving, as though the thought of the one he loved dancing with him made his heart sing, Iris was forced to turn away so he wouldn’t see how affected she was.
She rubbed the back of her neck and laughed nervously, hoping to fill the pause that had come between them. “You’re going all out with this research. It’s kind of impressive.”
There was no sound but the dim strains of the radio in the background and their breathing, while some sort of emotion stretched itself out from both of them and reached for the other, desperate to touch, to entwine, to become one.
Then Barry broke the moment with a quiet, one syllable laugh, and said, “Yeah.”
Tension passed (much to her disappointment), Iris rolled her neck and turned back to Barry. “So? What’ll it be this week?”
"Sweet pea. And one full bloom red rose. Please?"
Full bloom red rose. Maybe a proposal? Iris fumed all the while she wrapped up the minuscule arrangement and tied an uneven bow about the stems. Why was he leading her on like this? Was he gay; happy to be excited about traditionally feminine things with someone who understood but not intending to flirt? Was he just an idiot?
Barry clearly sensed her anger, and was quiet as he watched her wrap the flowers. He rubbed a hand over the back of his neck and did his best to look anywhere but Iris’ face until he had paid and was turning to go. Then he said, with a hopeful smile, “Thanks Iris. See you next week. And don’t forget — ‘Yellow Tulips’. Look ‘em up.”
Iris was pissed, and didn’t even touch her computer that night. She tossed and turned in bed, angry that this dumb, super cute person with the super cute name of “Barry Allen” and a super cute smile and a super cute propensity to remember the little things they talked about and come back with exciting research for her could enter her life exactly three times and send her whole heart topsy-turvy. Just thinking about it all made her want to bounce in her bed, throw her face in her pillow and scream and giggle. What does the dumb super cute dork want??????
The next morning however, over a nice cup of coffee and a bowl of Froot Loops, her laptop stared her down from the other side of the table, daring her to use it. She was considerably calmer now, so she shrugged, figured there could be no harm in discovering the meaning behind yellow tulips, opened her bookmarked “The Language of Flowers” site, and searched.
And yelped.
And shut her laptop forcefully.
Nope. There was no way that yellow tulips meant “There’s sunshine in your smile”.
No no no no no no no no no no no.
She did a google search. There was even more to this story. Yellow tulips once meant hopeless love. Now they meant cheer and sunshine.
Iris would have broken windows with her scream if any sound had come out of her mouth.
Work was nearly impossible that day. She kept calling every flower a tulip, recommending yellow this, yellow that. Her customers might have found her impossible had she not worn a smile that could have put any sunset in July running to hide in shame before her brilliance. In spite of crinkled paper wrappings and confused conversations, every single one of her customers left with a piece of her smile etched upon their faces.
Barry arrived at 5:20 in the evening, 10 minutes before closing. He looked like he was sweating beneath his sweater, but there was a kind of smirk on his face as he entered the little florist shop. Upon seeing him, Iris crossed to the front of the counter and leaned back against it, folding her arms and regarded him with a raised eyebrow and mirroring his smirk.
"You looked up yellow tulips?" He asked, by way of greeting.
"This morning." She said, straightening. She took two slow steps forward. "I’m curious though…you’ve come in here all three times buying flowers for someone else, and suddenly you tell me to look up a flower that used to mean hopeless love, and now means cheer and sunshine. So, before we talk about anything else, Barry Allen, you’d better tell me if you’re hoping to cheat on someone with me, because I won’t do that." I mean, I won’t if my will power holds out.
Barry’s mouth dropped open, and such a look of comical shock swept over his all too expressive face that Iris let out a laugh, despite how serious her words had been.
“That’s why you were mad last time?” He nearly choked, his hands unconsciously moving up to tangle themselves in his hair. “I thought…I mean I didn’t…I didn’t know what to think I was just…you didn’t research any of the flowers I bought?”
Iris shrugged, a guilty look encompassing her face. “I’ve…been busy…doing other things.” Like screaming about your dumb face you idiot.
"Oh." He replied. And then again, "Oh." His hand moved to rub his neck, a movement Iris was becoming familiar with. He looked down at the floor and actually laughed.
"Those flowers I got…" He said slowly, moving a little closer to her with a sappy grin. "They were for my mom."
It was Iris’ turn to say foolishly, “Oh.”
"Yeah…uh. Pink was her favorite color. So the first time, I got tea roses and carnations, ‘cause tea roses mean ‘remembrance’ and pink carnations mean ‘I’ll never forget you’."
The guilt was sweeping through Iris at an alarming rate, threatening to melt her into a little puddle and get swept out the door by the cleaning lady, but Barry still went on.
"And then I got…what did I get…"
"Blue violets." Iris murmured. She remembered perfectly.
"Yeah! I got blue violets, and pink day lilies, that’s right. Blue violets mean something like ‘faithfulness’, and day lilies were supposed to be…well, they were supposed to be the Chinese emblem for Mother. My mom…my mom really liked the Chinese culture. She worked there, for a few years after medical school."
There was nothing for Iris to say but whisper through her dry, creak of a voice, “Your mom was a doctor?”
He was scratching his ear bashfully now. “Yeah…she was.”
There was an uncomfortable silence, until Iris blurted, “What did the red rose and sweet pea mean?”
His eyes widened with surprise at her outburst, but he swallowed and pushed on. “Uh…red rose, one of ‘em, in like, full bloom…’supposed to mean ‘I’ll always love you’.”
Oh god. Iris felt herself tearing up, and murmured, “And the sweet pea?”
Barry breathed in deeply through his nose, and then he smiled (actually smiled). “It…well. It means ‘goodbye’.”
Iris blinked through her watery eyes. “Goodbye?” She repeated.
"Yeah." Barry said, shrugging his shoulders and moving to stand a very small distance from her. "I’ve been holding in how I felt about losing my mom for…well, about thirteen years now. It’s stopped me from doing a lot of things. Annndd I turned 25 this week, she would’ve turned 55, it seemed like a milestone year, so I wanted to do something special. But then…" Again with the hand rubbing his neck. It was so endearing by this point that Iris had to let out a soft laugh. Barry seemed to find that encouraging, for he went on, "Then you popped up. And you were so…happy and excited about things, I mean, you talked about a little purple flower called Monkshood just because the meaning made you excited, and your whole face lit up with a smile and I just…I wanted to find out what it was like to get that excited about things, you know to…to not be weighted down by my past."
Iris didn’t even try to stop the gentle flow of tears that were running down her cheeks. This was all too much, wasn’t it? It was ridiculous. It was dumb. But then, she supposed, that was exactly what she had thought of Barry Allen from the very first moment. He’s completely dumb, dorky, and super cute. Why wouldn’t the dumb, dorky, and super cute events follow him?
Barry looked unsure of what to do with both his posture and his face at the moment. Iris put him out of his momentary misery by wiping away her tears with her hand, sniffing loudly, and asking with a watery laugh, “Well, Mr. Allen. Is there anything I can help you find today?”
His face broke into a wide grin, charming, dumb, and perfectly dorky. “A gloxinia.”
A what now? Iris’ face twisted into a confused grimace, but she poked around the store a bit until she found the little striped plant in a singular pot. “Alright, what’s this one mean?”
"You’re gonna hate me." He said with a teasingly raised eyebrow.
She swatted his arm.
"Ow."
"You tell me right away, or I’ll just look it up on my own."
He was standing just behind her shoulder now, towering nearly a foot above her. His shadow fell across her face, and she gripped the potted gloxinia a little closer as he leaned down close to her ear and spoke, in a soft voice.
"'Love at first sight'."
She felt his kiss on her cheek, and her heart leaped in her chest and the blood rushed in her ears and everything else in her squirmed with so much excitement and joy she thought she might actually burst. She turned her head to glance back at Barry. He was looking down at her with a cocky smile that made her feel hot inside, and she couldn’t hold back a grin of her own.
"So…" She said casually, setting the gloxinia down very carefully. "You’re 25?"
Barry leaned back, his face pulled in an odd expression, as though a thought had just occurred to him. “I…am head over heels in love with you, and I don’t know the first thing about you.”
Iris laughed at him and punched his chest lightly. He pretended to have been very hurt, and she laughed a little more. “Well, Barry Allen, here’s one fact about me. I like doing the official asking out, and that is why I am taking you out for drinks as soon as I lock up here. Put the adorable little gloxinia back while I grab my keys.”
"Whatever you say, Iris West."